


Swain

by She_Who_Only_Knows_War



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Dom/sub, Drama, Dubious Consent, Harem, Implied Consent, Lots of hetero, Male Slash, Multi, Sexual vampires, Threesomes, shitty fight scenes, so much drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-16 23:12:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She_Who_Only_Knows_War/pseuds/She_Who_Only_Knows_War
Summary: Astarte doesn't choose the island of Sixtoll. The ship he's on decides to sink mid-way to Katrist.He's not exactly excited about it, but he's got his Concubine and deadpan sense of humour. What could go wrong?





	Swain

**Author's Note:**

> Actually had no intention of posting this, but my spouse encouraged me to.
> 
> I'm not exactly pleased with it, but I'm hoping it'll help me get started/finished with my other projects.

He doesn't choose the island of Sixtoll. The ship he happened to have been on decided to sink mid-way to Katrist. His concubine washes up on the shore at the same time he materializes on the dark, rich sand. Her long, strawberry blonde hair covers her upper back and shoulders, decorates the sand above her head. Her tanned skin is a sharp contrast with the burnt umber of the sand.  
  
She shifts, coughs water from deep in her lungs and Astarte crouches before her. "Glad you're awake."  
  
Jade eyes meet onyx and she sighs. "Not even five minutes after we've discovered I lived through a shipwreck, and you're harassing me."  
  
He stands and shrugs. A nonchalant roll of his shoulders and slides the toe of his leather boot under her shoulder and lifts. Her body flips over quite easily.  
  
He can feel her annoyed stare as he sits between her legs. "It isn't harassment if you enjoy it."  
  
"Oh trust me," She says, "It's-" She gasps. Clings to him and shudders as the head of his dick slides against her clit. He wastes no time easing inside her already slick folds. And her nails dig into his arm. "Y-you're bigger than I remember."  
  
"You complain more than I remember."  
  
She arches as he withdraws, tosses her head against the sand as he hilts himself with no mercy. "Do we have to do this, now?"  
  
"A man has to eat."  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
She's limp in his arms as he carries her across the beach and across the green rolling hills. Unconscious as they travel into the forest. A young woman stops him before he can go too deep.  
  
Her hair is so light it's almost white. Her thin, white dress a tantalizing display of innocence. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes," He calls back. "But my companion and I have lost our ship."  
  
She approaches. Bare feet make no noise and he, at first, thinks her a spirit. But he knows it isn't so when she stands before him, the sun glinting off her porcelain skin. "She's naked!"  
  
"Yes," He says again. In a sort of jest, he says, "The dolphins took her clothes."  
  
"Good heavens!" She replies. "Those nasty buggers steal our fish, too."  
  
Before he can clarify, her big blue doe eyes stare into his, "Please, come with me. My Grandmama sent me when she saw you trekking across the beach and thought you may be a traveler. It's worse than we thought!"  
  
And while he could assure he that he and his concubine are fine, he is hungry indeed. "Supping with you would be much appreciated, but we should stay no longer than that."  
  
Ecstatic, she turns away from him and he proceeds to stare at her milky, smooth legs. "My name is Ramoan, by the way."  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you," He says without skipping a beat. His stomach growls in complaint. Never mind that he'd eaten an hour ago. "I'm Astarte. This is my concubine."  
  
She glances back at him with curiosity. "Concubine?"  
  
"A woman who has the duties of a wife but you do not marry her," Says Astarte. Watching the hemline of that little white dress flutter. If he focuses hard enough, he can see just the very tops of her thighs. A glimpse of cotton before it disappears again and he thinks he's imagined it.  
  
"Why won't you marry her?"  
  
"She doesn't want to," He says simply.  
  
  
xXx  
  
  
When supper is served, his concubine inhales the contents of the bowl she's given, thanks them, then drops smoothly into unconsciousness once more.  
  
"She must be exhausted," Says Grandmama.  
  
"She is," He agrees. He's much slower to consume his. It's soup, potatoes and bread. Wild onions, odds and, ends.  


I'm sorry," Says Ramoan sheepishly. "We're poor so I cook what I can catch, or grow."

  


Which isn't much, he can tell. "This is excellent," He says. Smiles kindly at her. She preens and he thinks of twisting his fingers in her long, wavy locks and crushing his mouth against hers.  
  
"You should stay the night," Says Grandmama. Her eyes bore into him like fish hooks. Small. Sharp. Annoying. "I'm sure you're just as tired as she is."  
  
He doesn't sleep. But a full night of meditation is good for his soul. Morning finds him refreshed and wishing for coffee. When he gets down to the kitchen, Ramoan is cooking some strange concoction. He sits at the table, watches her and wants.  
  
"Sleep well?" She asks.  
  
"I did," He says.  
  
Her hands linger when she sets his food before him, the little hairs on her arm touch his and she jumps back. Blushes and returns to the stove.  
  
It makes sense that she would be attracted to -- Intrigued by a stranger from a foreign land. It gives him a thrill to know that he is now in a place where he is perceived as truly exotic.  
  
"So, where is your real wife?" Asks Ramoan.  
  
"I do not have one," He says. "What is marriage if only to pass on a lineage and to have sex that is free of scrutiny?"  
  
Her eyes are the size of platters when she turns to look at him. "You have sex outside of marriage?"  
  
He stands, hasn't touched his food. "What else is a concubine for?"  
  
"Companionship?" She says. "Tenderness?"  
  
"Sex." He says. His steps are slow, measured so that he will not miss it if he crosses her boundary. "A concubine must also be able to provide a sexual element of the relationship."  
  
"Surely sex isn't everything to you," She says.  
  
"Ramoan," He says. He can see gooseflesh start to appear on her arms. "Only a woman who's never had an orgasm can say such things."  
  
Heat spreads to her cheeks. The tips of her ears turn pink and her collarbone shares the same fate. "An orgasm?"  
  
He stands before her. He is sure to let her catch him trace the lines of her throat with his gaze. To let her see him stare at her quivering lips. She almost can't meet his gaze when he looks back up at her. "You've never had one, have you?"  
  
Her lashes lower and she looks away from him. "I'm saving myself for marriage-" She squeaks as he lifts her into his arms in one swift motion, wraps her arms tightly around his neck as he carries her to the table.  
  
Her bottom hits the old, ashy, oak table with a resounding, _thump_. Her pained grunt is devoured by his mouth. The very tips of his nails slide up and down her arms and he enjoys the texture of her flawless skin. He moves to stand between her legs but her thighs clamp down on him before he can get close enough to make good on his intentions. Annoyed, he bears down on her. Her back bows to let him put his hands flat on the table.  
  
Ramoan's breathing picks up but her hands stay clasped to each other, against her chest.  
  
_So shy,_ He thinks as he flicks his tongue over her little pink lips. His left hand tangles tight in the woman's light blonde hair. His right hand settles into the dip of her side and he growls against her mouth. She whimpers, parts her lips and he wastes no time exploring the inside.  
  
Her tongue slides over his and he's surprised when his own breath hitches. She shivers and his hand slides down to the curve of her ass. Ramoan jumps, starts to move away but he pulls her flush to the table by her hair and pushes up her dress.  
  
The gentle swell of her breast is cupped in his rough hand. She squirms as he sucks at her hardened nipples, teeth scraping over the delicate flesh. Her thighs open and he glides a finger so very lightly over the crotch of her panties. She arches nearly a foot from the creaking wood. His fingertip comes back damp.  
  
Gods, he wants to be inside her.  
  
With a smooth, unyielding pull, her nether regions are bared to him. Her little, hairy pussy glistens with desire and he takes a moment to admire the maidenhead before him.

Just his breath ghosting over the junction of her spread legs makes the pearl before him quiver and twitch. "It's been a very long time since I've been with someone this responsive."  
  
"Please," She gasps. "Please save my virginity for my husband." Her thighs shake with every breath he exhales.  
  
"If I must," He says. Under normal circumstances, he would be inside of her already. But this is a challenge. He wants to know if he has enough self-control.  
  
The blonde whimpers, tries to sit up. But his hand on her sternum keeps her still. She trembles when her eyes meet his. "I only agreed not to penetrate you."  
  
Her legs clamp over his ears as soon as his tongue touches her. Her fingers tangle in his hair as the flat of his tongue laves her hymen with just enough pressure to be an empty, thrilling threat. He breathes the earthy scent of her curls as he licks harder, faster.  
  
He glances up, watches her put her own fingers in her mouth as his lips wrap around her tiny, silky clit. Her thighs grip his head in time with each gentle pull he gives. He meets her dark blue eyes and growls. The vibration makes her nearly rip his hair out as her thighs clench and her hips rock. He can feel her newly used muscles flutter and pull taut.  
  
He growls again and laps up her sweet, sweet quim. Only stopping when she shoves her hands against his bare shoulders and says, "N-ngh-no more."  
  
He backs off some. Kisses her while he takes himself in hand and knocks hers away when she tries. Directs them to his chest. She explores Astarte while he touches his own aching cock. She gasps, pauses in her inquiries when he topples over the edge, coming into his hand. He revels in it. Isn't concerned with it by any means.  
  
His stomach stops it's obnoxious gnawing and he leans his forehead against her shoulder.  
  
He still wants to be inside of her. Ugh.  
  
_Patience,_ He reminds himself. _Be patient._  
  
The grandmother hobbles down the stairs and he pulls Ramoan's dress down in one, smooth motion. Her undergarments, he stashes in his pocket.  
  
She slips off the table before they're discovered. She stands like a newborn fawn and twice, he has to keep her from dropping to the floor.  
  
"I," She says, shyly. "I made breakfast."  
  
He moves upstairs, careful to keep his hand closed.  
  
His concubine is still sleeping when he comes into the room. He can't help the surge of satisfaction when he slides his slippery hand over her face.  
  
She sputters angrily. "Did you just wipe your come on my face?"  
  
"You love my come," He says. "Now get up. We have errands to run."  
  
xXx  
  
The forest is quiet as they walk through the trees. Ramoan gave his concubine a yellow sundress to travel in. It makes her tan skin look darker, gives her a sweeter look.  
  
"I miss my leather," She tells him as they clamber through the vines. "Where are we going?"  
  
"The Grandmother said there is a town in this direction."  
  
After a few long minutes of trying not to step in thorny vines or spider webs, she says, "So the old lady or the girl."  
  
"The girl," He replies. "I'm going to make that one mine." He glances back at her and catches her curious expression. "I've tasted her innocence. I want it."  
  
She catches up with Astarte, "You've been around virgins before. Why is this one different?"  
  
"This one," He says, "Sated me. This one told me only her husband could have her maidenhead."  
  
She stops mid-stride. "Oh my gods! You jerked yourself!"  
  
"And that's a first for you, because..?"  
  
"You always make them get you off."  
  
They hit a main road and he takes a moment to look at the signs before choosing the left path. It's dirt but it's soft on her feet like sand and she plays in it just a little.  
  
"I wouldn't think too much of it," He says. "I've got a long game."  
  
Finally they hit the bazaar. Awnings everywhere. People crowding the streets, shopping or hawking their wares.  
  
As he has expected and trained her to do, she flirts with a shop keeper as he slides a pair of carrots into his bag. He pretends to be the angry husband and they move on.  
  
"You lose hands around here if you're caught," She says.

 _"If."_  
  
She eyes him with annoyance. "Don't you dare to get me killed."  
  
"I would-" He jumps back as the stall beside him tips. The furs stacked precariously on top, flutter to the cobblestone street.  
  
A woman stands from the rubble. Shaking and dusting herself off.  
  
"What are you doing?!" Screams the shop keeper. His whole face turns purple.  
  
Another man snatches the woman by the arm and says, "We were just leaving."  
  
"No," Says Astarte when his Concubine gives him a glance. "We do not meddle in the affairs of regular folk."  
  
"But this isn't regular," She says. "Look at how uncomfortable she is."  
  
"She is his property."  
  
With a huff, she crosses her arms. "I'll bet if you save her, you'll get to fuck her."  
  
"Get to? Women like her beg for a drop."  
  
"Whatever," Says his concubine.  
  
Irked, he takes her by the hair and pulls her close. "Listen here," It comes out as a hiss into her ear. "I know what you're doing and if you think it's going to work on me, you're absolutely right. But when she spreads her legs to me, I expect you to join us."  
  
"Oh, come on!" She says. "You know I hate threesomes!"  
  
"And you know I hate getting in the middle of this bullshit." Pulling away, he strides over to he couple. The woman is still getting towed away by her iron-fisted husband. "Excuse me, I was wondering if you have to always hold a lady's arm that tight."  
  
"Oh, you're right," Says the man, it's evident to Astarte that he thinks he's a charmer. He lets go, but the woman doesn't move. Her arm is already bruising a dark, ugly purple. "This is my wife, Elm. And I am-"  
  
"I don't care who you are," He says. "I am here for Elm."  
  
Elm turns and looks at him with wide, brown eyes. Her long, kinky hair looks soft. Touchable.  
  
To her, he holds out his hand. "Come."  
  
The husband snarls, angrier than ever. His fists are white knuckled as they stand off. Elm backs away and he wonders if the Heroic Bad Boy approach wasn't her thing. "He won't hurt you anymore if you come with me."  
  
Taking a deep breath, she gathers up her many layered skirts and takes his hand. Honey brown meets onyx and she shivers a little.  
  
Catching the man's fist as he takes a swing, Astarte throws him into a weapons cart. "Karma is a painful thing, isn't it?"  
  
And with that, he hefts Elm over his shoulder like a prize and walks away. He can feel her ample breasts against him in his strides, too. Wide hips to complement a well-hidden hourglass figure. Her hair tickles his arm but it's as soft as he expected.  
  
His concubine trails him in a sort of dejected way.  
  
"What is it?" He asks. "Isn't this what you wanted?"  
  
"I thought you'd make her a free woman. Not another concubine."  
  
Turning as if the woman cannot hear them at all, he says, "Have I done the things required to make her my concubine? And what makes you think I'd really like another one of you for my constant company?"  
  
He puts her down at the tavern and gives her an expectant glance. He also eyes her tight bodice with a sort of interest.  
  
"Why are you foreigners here, anyway?"  
  
"I had to come into town to procure hunting gear," He tells Elm. He gives a leer to the nonplussed strawberry blonde. This, he did pick up the money for. A quiver of arrows and a sturdy bow.  
  
"We aren't becoming villagers?" She asks.  
  
"Don't be stupid," He says under his breath. "I have a long game."  
  
xXx  
  
When he brings in the stag he downed, Ramoan looks at it with watery eyes. "You killed it."  
  
Confused, he sets about skinning it. "Why are you upset?" His concubine pulls a knife and cutting board, begins cutting up their stolen vegetables.

Ramoan storms over to him, her hand grips his and he is surprised that she would touch him without his permission. "That animal was an innocent creature!"  
  
"Do you not eat the fruit from the trees or gain nourishment from what grows in the earth?"  
  
"Those things do not cry when you kill their brethren or feel fear when they see you with your weapons."

Rolling his eyes, Astarte removes her hand from his. "They are still alive. They still are aware when you cut them."  
  
She shakes her head.  
  
"Then I suppose the offer I was going to make is worthless to you."  
  
"Which is what?" She asks.  
  
"I will always ensure that you are well fed if you allow us to come and go as we please."  
  
"If you keep bringing meat like that, you're welcome to stay as long as you like," Says the Grandmother. She leers at the stag like a starving dog. "It's been a very long time since I've had venison." She pats Ramoan's hand. "Oh how I miss your father. My son was such a good hunter."  
  
Astarte smiles at her, "I'm sure." Turning to his concubine, he says, "Take over for me and have Elm help you. I'll be back in a moment."  
  
Dutifully, she takes the knife from his hand.  
  
He steps out to the outhouse that's positioned five-hundred feet. At three-hundred feet, he notices Ramoan is following him.  
  
"I wouldn't be alone with me," He says. "You're grandmother may know I have less than good intentions for you."  
  
Swallowing thickly, Ramoan says, "I'm still angry about the deer. But I..."  
  
He pauses his steps. Listens intently.  
  
"Was wondering if you would..."  
  
He glances back at her. Wants her to say it.  
  
"I was wondering if you-if you would do what you did to me last night."  
  
Finally, he turns fully to her. Stalks towards her and crowds her against a large tree with his body. He's careful that they are out of sight. "Tell me you want me to eat your pussy."  
  
Her face goes from a mild red to tomato red. She gasps when his knee comes between her legs. "Wh-What?"  
  
He nips her earlobe. Runs his fingers over her neck and shoulders and the space between her collarbone and breasts. "Say it."  
  
She shakes her head. Bites her lips. "I can't."  
  
"Then no," He tells her as he pulls away. "I won't put my mouth on you again."  
  
She whimpers after him as he walks away. "Please! It's all I can think about."  
  
"Then think about it." He calls back.  
  
She hurries to catch up with him. Drops to her knees before him. "Please. I'm desperate."  
  
"Good gods," He says. "You act like you don't touch yourself."  
  
At her shy glance, he says, _"Oh."_  
  
After a sigh and an eye roll, he grabs her by the jaw with a firm hand and looks down to meet her eyes. "Just this once. Next time, I want you to be clear about what you want. And finger yourself for fucks sake."  
  
"Are you going to make me..." At her gesture, he gets her question. ' _Do I have to put my mouth on you?_ '  
  
"No. That would be penetration. That would break the promise."  
  
She moves to stand but freezes when he grips her again. She looks up at him.  
  
"But from now on, when I come back from a hunt, this is how you will greet me. And I will lick your demanding little cunt until you can't take anymore while my concubine prepares the meal."  
  
xXx  
  
His concubine eyes him as he steps back into the house. She can see his discomfort as he sits at the table. Ramoan floats in as though on a cloud. Her legs have a wobble to them and her posture is relaxed.  
  
She serves the Grandmother, then Ramoan. She then serves Astarte and Elm before sitting down beside him for the meal. Her hand touches his thigh as Ramoan thanks her family's deity for their food.  
  
Her hand slides over the top of his thigh. They make eye contact, but they don't dare turn their heads to look at each other.  
  
The Grandmother proceeds to the venison stew. "The concubine says you saved Elm from her husband."  
  
He can only just keep his voice neutral when his concubine caresses the tented part of his pants. "She saved herself." He was hard before, but her touch makes it difficult to focus. "I promised she would be safe from him if she left. She is under my care, now."  
  
He meets Elm's eye as the strawberry blonde's hand full out palms him.  


"Building a harem?" She jokes even as his belt and pants are silently worked open with her single, left hand. Gods, he's so pleased with her training. She smiles a sly smile and it throbs against her smooth palm.  


"If only I could be so lucky," He replies. He slams his hand on the table at the same time she gives him a mind-sucking tug. "You are so funny." He says. It comes out as an angry hiss because she rubs her thumb over his slit.  


The only person aware of what's happening under the table is Elm. The other two watch the exchange with curiosity.  
  
Her hand strokes him faster. Squeezes him harder. He grips her wrist as subtly as possible. "Harems aren't quite my style."  
  


The concubine chuckles, scoots closer. "I love you, Astarte." And with that, she kisses him on the mouth to hide how fast -- how hard she's working him.  
  
He bites down on her lip as he coats her hand. Their eyes meet and she gives him a glare. But he isn't sure if it's about her lip or her hand. She wipes his seed on the inside of his trousers. The only woman who can leave him a sticky mess.  
  


"Save it for the bedroom," Says the Grandmother. "There's no reason to get frisky to my table."

  


_The irony,_ He thinks.  
  
Ramoan blushes.  
  
He's fairly sure Elm is fingering herself under the table.  
  
After dinner is settled, he signals his concubine to meet him upstairs. Elm follows and he isn't sure whether to be aroused or annoyed.  
  
Ramoan grips his shirt sleeve, revealing the tattoos underneath. She must not have noticed them before, because she pauses, traces them with her other hand. It's when he politely clears his throat that she looks at him. "Do you love her back?"  
  
"I'm sorry," He says slowly. "What?"  
  
"Your concubine. She said that she loves you. Do you love her back?"  
  
Withdrawing his sleeve from her grip. He bends his knees just slightly to get eye level with her. "That is not any of your concern."  
  
"But I-"  
  
"Yes, I fucked you," He says. "But I expect you to understand that sex does not always equate to love." At her hurt, baffled, and yet still hopeful expression, he says. "Do you love me?"  
  
"I-I-"  
  
"No," He tells her. "You do not. You love that tingly little feeling you get when I sit between your legs. You love the way your toes curl when I eat you out. You love coming. But you do not love me, Ramoan." And with that, he stalks upstairs.  
  
When the door opens, his concubine is kneeling naked before him. Elm sits, fully clothed, on the bed.  
  
He pats his concubine on the head as he passes by, "Good girl." He pulls off his shirt, hangs his belt on the rack and unfastens his pants. Stepping out of them, he bids her to him. Perhaps it should bother him that Elm is in their room, watching their exchange. But it doesn't bother the concubine, so he isn't worried over it.  
  
She crawls across the room, kneels before him.  She lies one hand on top of the other, flat on the floor and bows deeply. Her forehead rests on her hands. "Master."  
  
Aware of Elm's intense gaze, he moves to the other side of the strawberry blonde. Kneels behind her. "Relax." He touches her clean-shaven opening with just his fingertip. It follows his finger as he guides her up. She pushes back but his other hand on her ass keeps her leaned forward. "You know better than that. Where are your manners."  
  
Her breath hitches as his fingers slide over her soaked pussy and she forces herself to hold still. "Please fuck me."  
  
"What did you say?" The head of his dick kisses her opening with enough pressure to be a tease and she grits her teeth.  
  
"Please-" She cries out as he hilts himself inside of her. His hand wraps around her throat and his knees spread hers. The fingers of his free hand brush her clit with teasing touches but move when she tries to grind on them.  
  
He pulls her against him, back to chest and she pants hard. "Do not," He says even as she slides her own hand down her body.  
  
She gasps when he slaps her tender breasts once, twice, three times when she refuses to obey. Finally her hand withdraws from her clit and she grips his hip, instead. Her muscles ripple around his dick, grip him as she slides up. "Please touch me." She asks as she cranes her neck to kiss the crook of his. He yanks her back down, flush with his lap. "Please."  
  
Finally he gives her little pearl a firm upward stroke that makes her curl in on herself. "Ah! _Ah_!"  
  
He follows her, leans over her and picks up his pace. Her breasts bounce with each rough thrust and she gasps his name as her thighs shake. Her hair sticks to her face and neck and his chest and he leaves bitemarks wherever he can reach. Her muscles clamp down as she comes, dragging him with her.  
  
They lie on the floor for a moment, catching their breath. Her kisses are long. Languid and unexpected.  
  
"You know what I don't get," Says Elm.  
  
"Mmm?" Replies the concubine. She's limp in his arms. Sleepy.  
  
"Your huge bosom. It doesn't look that big when you have clothes on."  
  
"They are, aren't they?" Says Astarte, pulling on an earth-coloured nipple.  
  
She hisses, glares at him. No longer content and sleepy.  
  
"They would look much better if they were pierced," He says.  
  
"I already told you I'm not going to pierce my nipples. Ask Ramoan to get hers done."  
  
"Ramoan is rather flat-chested."  
  
"Wait, wait, wait," Says Elm. "You're with Ramoan, too?"  
  
He pauses, they both look up at Elm with surprised expressions, he'd honestly almost forgotten she was with them.  
  
"So listen," Says the concubine. She disentangles herself from her master. "Astarte has-" They share a look- "A wide appetite. He's never been the kind of being to be easily satisfied."  
  
"Especially when I first met you," He tells her. And for a long time, his concubine has kept his hunger tolerable. Kept his conquests to a minimum.  
  
"Isn't there ever jealousy?"  
  
"Why would there be?" She asks. "He had two concubines before he met me. And he was still with his last one when I became his concubine."  
  
"And an excellent one at that."  
  
"So what happened with them?" Asks Elm.  
  
"As with any concubine, they were given a name."  
  
Turning towards the strawberry blonde, Elm asks, "Do you not have a name?"  
  
"I do not," She replies. "I surrendered it when I became a concubine."  
  
xXx  
  
He cracks an eye open when Elm stands at some ungodly time of the morning. It's two or three hours before he, personally would get up.  
  
"How do you do that?" She asks.  
  
Looking at her from his position in the window seat, he says, "Do what?"  
  
"Sleep sitting up?"  
  
"Fortunately, I don't have to sleep. I do meditate, but these would normally be active hours for me."  
  
"Then why are you not active?"  
  
Tossing his head in the direction of his concubine, he says, "She cannot keep up. It's a compromise I was willing to make so that she may attend to my needs."  
  
Approaching him with a sort of caution one might have for a sleeping bear, she stops within a foot or two of him and he can smell her quim. The earthy scent of her womanhood makes his stomach growl. He thinks it's probably on her thighs, too.  
  
"Are your needs as intense as she claims them to be?"  
  
"They are," He says. "Finding a willing partner isn't difficult. It's finding one who is willing as long as I would like them to be."  
  
"Where did you find your concubine?"  
  
"Which one?" He asks with a huff for a laugh. "The one before us, I met in a church. I was attending a funeral for one of my brothers and she came because she didn't want him to be lonely or some shit like that."  
  
"When did you know you wanted her to be your concubine?"  
  
With a fond, smug glance at the strawberry blonde, he says, "She sucked me off in one of the pews. I didn't even have to really ask. I knew she belonged with me, then."  
  
Elm's disturbed expression doesn't faze him.  
  
"You thought it was going to be some floral, romantic shit. Most people do."  
  
Elm adjusts her under-tunic. Having removed her bodice before she went to bed. "You're quite the womanizer. Have you always been this way?"

"Perhaps," He says. "Perhaps not." And he stands. He's restless now. Annoyed to be pried into. Even if giving her the information she wants means getting her comfortable enough to allow him to plow her.  
  
He could, of course just coax her into it. It wouldn't take much. But he wants her a little more pliant so he doesn't have to work as hard to get his dick wet.  
  
He shakes his concubine. "Come. You have work to do."  
  
She waves him off, "Take Ramoan. I cannot even open my eyes."  
  
"You know how I feel about disobedience."  
  
"And you know how hard it is for me to get up after you've been fed."  
  
"Lazy woman," He says as he pulls his clothes on. "Who do I have to orally satisfy to get my demands met around here."  
  
"Ramoan, obviously." Says the concubine. "There's also that guy at the wig stall."  
  
Breathing deep, he steps out of the room. Elm follows, fully dressed behind him. Falls into step beside him and it irks him. He's never allowed his concubines to stand abreast of him.  
  
"Do you miss your brother?"  
  
_Not this again,_ He thinks. "I honestly did not know him. I attended because he was our master's favourite. You always pay your respects to the favourite."  
  
She seems mollified at this because she finally goes quiet.  
  
"How many siblings do you have?"  
  
"Okay," He rounds on her. "I wanted to wait but this is too much. For every question I answer, you have to do something for me."  
  
Her brown eyes narrow. But she keeps her lips closed.  
  
"That was two. I'll let the others go."  
  
"And just what do you expect to get out of two questions?"  
  
Shoving her against the wall in the hallway, He says, "Now we're at three. I'm really fucking irritated because I just wanted to wait." He pulls Ramoan's little, cotton panties from his pocket and sticks them in her mouth. He meets her surprised eyes.  
  
Then he directs her to the carpet. He's quick to tug her panties down, a lace thong and he wonders just how adventurous she really is. He ties her hands with his belt, pulls her thong further down her legs until they're just above her knees and he twists them tight in his hand. He uses the make shift bondage to direct her onto her back, positions her legs just high enough that her calves rest on either side of his shoulders.  
  
"The bright side is that you've already been with a man." Her breathing becomes akin to hiccups when she breathes in. A noise he's only heard heavy criers make. He's mindful to make sure that isn't the case.  
  
She presses into him when he laps at the backs of her thighs. He is careful when he runs his sharp teeth over the space where her ass and thighs connect. "Maybe a few?" He says as he dips not one, but two fingers into her neatly trimmed folds.  
  
She's probably wet enough to take more. And as hard as he considers fitting himself inside of her, he has other plans. He spreads her juices over her inner thighs, lubricating them for the next stage of his plan.  
  
No sooner is his dick in hand, so close yet so fucking far, does Ramoan come out of her room.  
  
"Oh, Astarte! You're already-" She stops and while her entire face turns a deep shade of red, her eyes start to shine.  
  
There's a long pause where she tries to pretend she isn't bothered. "A-Are... Are those my undergarments?"  
  
At Elm's angry, disgusted face, he shrugs. "So what if they are?" Her nostrils flare as his dick slides between her thighs. "Do you want them back?"  
  
And while he presses Elm's thighs tighter around him, it's her angry glare that makes him come. Leaving a sticky trail on her stomach. He then pulls the panties from the mouth of his newest conquest and wipes himself off with them.  
  
Once his belt is back on his person, Elm stands. "Have you ever been with a man?" She asks. Bites her lips as he turns back to her with an expression of warning.  
  
"Don't," Is all he says.  
  
Ramoan has disappeared back into her chambers.  
  
"I think I hurt her feelings," He says.  
  
"Does she-" Elm pauses. Rephrases. "She must know about your... Wide libido."

"She doesn't," He says. "Truly, virgins are so clingy."

  


"Has anyone told you how heartless you are?" She asks.

  


When he turns to look at her, eyes so blank her heart starts to race like a caged rabbit. But as he reaches for her, she says, "You should apologize to her. She doesn't understand the world and you preyed upon her naivete."

  


Before he can give her a snarky ass reply, his face snaps to the side. At first, he's stunned. "You hit me."  
  
Touching the side of his face, head still spinning so to speak, he says again, "You actually fucking hit me."  
  
"Don't be such a baby. It was a mere slap. Men more effeminate than you have taken much worse and still smiled about it."  
  
"You bitch."  
  
"I didn't leave my husband to get told what to do like some weak ass child. And I'll be damned if you think you can be so callous to someone so timid."  
  
Getting so close their noses touch and they're breathing the same breath, she says, "Apologize."  
  
Thinking of all the ways he's going to make her sorry later, he raps the back of his hand on Ramoan's door. "Hey."  
  
The door cracks open to reveal her puffy eyes and red nose. Her lips are swollen as well. "I wanted to speak to you about what happened in the hallway."  
  
The door tries to shut on him but he sticks his fingers in the way. She looks up at them with awe and distress. "Doesn't that hurt?"  
  
"Isn't that an obvious question?" The door opens just a little. He slips in like a snake and shuts the door behind him. "I'm going to start off by saying that I don't do apologies." Her mouth opens and he raises his hand. "But I owe you one. I let you think that I would only be about you. I didn't tell you of my promiscuity. And I'm sorry for that."  
  
"But do you really have to have sex with Elm? With anyone else? Isn't one girl enough for you?!"  
  
"How do you think my concubine feels? Should I drop her for you? My loyal servant who has been with me for two years through my worst and my best?"  
  
"No..." She says, "But why sleep with both of us if you have no intention of being loyal to one of us?"  
  
"Ramoan," He says. "I have a story to tell you."  
  
xXx  
  
The water is still. A few of the smaller birds make noise at each other in the branches above them. A small herd of deer approach and Astarte weighs which would be the best for the household.  
  
Elm watches quietly, patiently beside him.  
  
"I have twelve siblings," He says as he lets go of the arrow. It hits his target, a large older doe. They all scatter.  
  
"That's a lot," She says.  
  
"Those are the ones that I know of," He says. "Three females. Nine males."  
  
"You strike me as one of the youngest."  
  
"I'm a middle child. The problem child, as those like me are called."  
  
They track the doe to a meadow and he finishes her off. He effortlessly carries the doe home.  
  
Ramoan waits at the door for him, on her knees. His fingers card through her light hair. "That's what I like."  
  
His concubine is leaning against the counter in the kitchen, waiting for him. He tosses the deer onto the table. "If you please."  
  
And with that, he turns back to meet Ramoan in her quarters.  
  
She's naked, patiently waiting for him. He removes his armour, unfastens his shirt.  
  
"So why won't you give Rebecca her name?"  
  
Thrown off by her question, he says, "Rebecca...?"  
  
"Your concubine."  
  
"Ramoan. You don't get to just name my property."  
  
"Everyone deserves a name. Especially Rebecca."  
  
"Does my concubine know that you've named her?"  
  
"She likes the name I gave her."  
  
He sighs, pushes her down by her sternum. "I'm sure."  
  
xXx  
  
"Ramoan tells me she named you."  
  
Making eye contact with him in the bathroom mirror, she takes in his topless visage. "The nickname isn't a dick. Don't take it so hard."  
  
"You know I'm not going to humour that."  
  
"And I also know that you'll name me when you're ready for it."  
  
He steps closer, his touch is feather light when his hands perch on her hips.  
  
"Don't be so sullen," She says. "You aren't losing control. I'm still yours."

At his raised brow, she puts her hands on top of his. "Your dick is still my favourite. I still like when you do that thing on my thing with your tongue."  
  


He lets out a huff for a laugh. "Is that so?"

  
She's slow when she faces him, wraps her arms around his waist and he reluctantly hugs her back.  
  
"That aside, I rather like the the nickname."  
  
xXx  
  
"My husband built this house, you know." Says the Grandmother. Elm serves her tea on the back porch.  
  
Astarte leans against the railing watching Ramoan and his concubine paint each other's nails. "He did an excellent job."  
  
He catches a scent on the breeze, turns to face a tall, willowy man.  
  
The man stands at the fence. "Um, hi. Yes," He says. He doesn't sound like a native of Sixtoll. "I knocked but no one came to the door."  
  
"... We aren't obliged to." Says Astarte. "What's your business here, anyway."  
  
"I saw that beautiful angel in the fields and knew I had to speak to her."  
  
He turns. "Grandma, you shouldn't go places by yourself."  
  
She titters, "You Casanova, you!"  
  
He isn't prepared for her hand on his ass.  
  
"Um, well. I also saw the blonde." The other man says. Astarte can smell the his fear and hesitation. "And I wanted to ask if she was courting anyone."  
  
"She isn't," He says. "And she doesn't-"  
  
Ramoan's hand on his arm silences him. "What is your name, good sir?"  
  
"Sheppard," He says. "Leslie Sheppard."  
  
"Do you think he'll eat me like you," She asks Astarte in a quiet whisper.  
  
"Nobody is going to eat you like I do," He says. "But don't ask him yet. If you even let him touch your arm, he'll move on to a new girl."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because," He replies. "Boys want either a short, easy play or a long and difficult hunt. Give them the long game, and they'll follow your sweet ass forever."  
  
She blushes, "Astarte!"  
  
"Court him, if you want. But don't be easy."  
  
"My name is Ramoan," She calls out. "And I accept your offer of courtship."  
  
Excited, Sheppard shakes his fists like maracas. "Would you like to go to dinner with me, tonight?!"  
  
Astarte throws Ramoan over his shoulder. "Come back tomorrow." And strides inside. Away from the stranger. "Elm," He says.  
  
Elm and his concubine gingerly help Grandma inside.  
  
"We'll have dinner tomorrow," Says Ramoan before he shuts the door. "Don't be so jealous," She tells him when he puts her down.  
  
"I'm not," He says. "I simply do not like him."  
  
Ramoan turns to his concubine. "Rebecca, I think he's jealous."  
  
"Jealous! Jealous!" They both sing in a whisper at his retreating back.  
  
"That's enough, you two." He says  
  
Finally sobering up, Ramoan says, "If I do have have sex with him, will you join us?"  
  
Astarte tilts his head. "You are full of surprises."  
  
"I just thought that you could be there when I lost my virginity."  
  
The hair on his arms stands up. His whole body freezes.  
  
"And maybe teach him how to eat me." When he doesn't move, Ramoan pokes his bicep. "Hello? Astarte? Did you die?"  
  
"I think you broke him," Says the concubine. "Although I doubt he'll be too excited when their dicks accidentally touch."  
  
Finally, he blinks, pulls himself together. "Yes. I will be there." He says.  
  
Ramoan gives a little cheer and tackles him in a hug before running off.  
  
"So do you think you'll receive?" Asks his concubine.  
  
"I haven't received in thirty years. I really don't have any interest in it."  
  
"Hmm," Says the concubine. Her hand presses his solar plexus, she guides him back to their room with only that hand. And usually, he would be annoyed at the power grab. But he lets her have it just this once. He doesn't have to be on top all the time.  
  
Her mouth brushes against his with just enough pressure that he knows she's there. Her hands slide under his shirt. And she pulls away. Looks him in his eyes as she counts his ribs. "You're losing weight, again."  
  
Lifting her so she can wrap her legs around his hips, he says, "I know." He pushes her against the wall, easily slips inside and she gasps. Digs her nails into his back. Bites his neck as he pulls out.  
  
"Woah. Woah," She says. "Wai- Ah! _**Ah**_!" She clings tight as he presses into a totally different hole. "Oh my gods! Seriously?"  
  
"Relax for fucks sake." His hands smooth along her thighs and up her sides and she hisses as she finally opens up, slides down to be flush with his hips. "That's my girl," He breathes. "Also, you've been a real pain in my ass lately, so I thought I would fuck yours."  
  
"You're gross," She tells him.  
  
"And you're going to wish you were nicer to me."  
  
His thrusts are slow, shallow as she clings to him. His body keeps her from touching herself, but every thrust teases her clit. "I need you to touch me."  
  
"That's too bad." He says. "You'll just have to get off on my dick."  
  
He angles himself a little closer so he rubs against her and picks up his pace. She clings harder, panting against his neck. "Thank you. Thank yo-Fuck!"  
  
He stops right as her muscles start to clamp. She trembles. "You're a monster. Let me come!"  
  
His hips start to work her again. Her juices drip from her hungry, aching core. His pelvis is slick with it. He nips at her breasts, leaves love marks on her throat.  
  
"Yes," She hisses against his ear. "Give it to me." Her muscles string tight and her breath comes in harsh gasps. "Let me come on your dick."  
  
He grips her hips with bruising force, presses in hard as he tips over the edge of his own release.  
  
"No." She says, "No. Nononono! You bastard!" Her hands push against his shoulders. "Damn you!" In an angry whine, she says,  "Let me get off!"  
  
"Earn it," He says. Withdrawing from her. "Better yet, ask someone else to get you off."  
  
"Oooh you cockmongering sleeve sucking ballfucker!"  
  
"I'm so offended," He says, his expression is deadpan.  
  
"What do you want from me?!"  
  
"You know how I feel about disobedience." He says as he steps into the washroom. There's a claw-foot bathtub filled with steaming water.  
  
"Leave me," He says when she follows him in. There's no heat. No threat. "I would like to bathe alone."  
  
"I'm not stupid," She says. "If you remove your clothes, I will leave."  
  
His brooding, over-the-shoulder glance tells her this is likely the reason she was punished by edging.  
  
His shirt slides from his body to the floor. His pants and undergarments go next. "Are you satisfied, concubine?"  
  
Slowly, her hands touch his scarred skin. "You really should eat more."  
  
"I have been."  
  
"But you're dropping fast. I am afraid that it's going to-"  
  
"Do you trust me?"  
  
He meets her eye. She bites her lip, looks away. "I made you my concubine because concubines must have a strong constitution. They must be their own person. But I need you to trust the decisions that I make. For myself,  
And for you."  
  
"I trust you."  
  
"Good. Now get in the tub."  
  
"I thought you wanted to bathe alone?"  
  
He says nothing as he eases into the water. She almost doesn't climb in because of the intense heat. Finally, she slides down between his legs. He makes an annoyed noise but doesn't stop her when she leans against him.  
  
"This is nice," She says. And his nose presses against her ear. His arms lie on the rim of the tub as she hogs all the hot water with her thin body. Which isn't a surprise, he's used to her stealing his creature comforts for herself.  
  
xXx  
  
"Should I wear this," Says Ramoan, holding up a baby blue dress with ruffles on the sleeves and skirt. "Or this?" The second option is a purple, tapered dress to show her curves. It's sleek but still contributes to the imagination.  
  
"Try them on," Says Astarte.  
  
"What a dog," Says his concubine under her breath.  
  
"Woof," He says with no expression.  
  
The first dress she tries on is the second option. It's tighter on Ramoan than he expected. Emphasizes her femininity. His concubine sits on his lap to hide his appreciation for the dress.  
  
The second is the baby blue dress. He finds it emphasizes her innocent looking face. "I think that one should be appropriate," He says.  
  


The concubine's hand snakes down, grips his dick in a non-friendly way. "What do you think, Ramoan?"

"I don't know, Rebecca..." She turns this way and that. The calve-length skirt spins with her, rises and twists. "Do you think I look too juvenile in this?"  


"Not at all. But you should pick something you're comfortable in."  
  
Astarte opens his mouth but the hand on his dick gets tighter. "Be careful," He whispers. "I may come again."  
  
Ramoan picks the blue dress.  
  
Grandma is absolutely delighted. Excited at the prospect of her only grandchild getting married.  
  
xXx  
  
"Listen," Says the concubine as she adjusts Astarte's suit and tie. "Your job as her chaperone is to **only** make sure she doesn't get into a bad situation."  
  
"You're going to touch yourself while I'm gone."  
  
"Yes, I am," She confirms. "Now. Do you understand? Don't let this be over until Ramoan says it's over. Do you copy?"  
  
"I copy." He says, but his eyes are wandering.  
  
"It'll be fine, Rebecca," Says Ramoan as she walks by, floating into the kitchen.  
  
"She only thinks it's fine now because she hasn't seen what you're capable of."  
  
Grandma hobbles by, "I wanted to thank you," She says to him. Pats his arm, they both know she's feeling up his bicep for Old Lady Time later.  
  
Ugh.  
  
"Ramoan really looks up to you. She hasn't had a man to depend on since her father died and I can tell that you're like an older brother to her."  
  
His concubine grimaces behind her. He smiles at the Grandmother instead. "I try very hard to meet her needs."  
  
The concubine face palms.  
  
Grandma full on grips his arm now. "I'm glad she has someone like you to help her pick a suitor. Please, make sure she gets married."  
  
"I promise, Grandma."  
  
"I'm not doing so well, these days," She tells him. But he's known for awhile.  
  
"I will make sure Ramoan is always cared for," He says.  
  
"Such a sweet boy," She says as she walks past, slaps him on the hindquarters. "Sweeter ass."  
  
"Did you see that." It's more of a statement than a question.  
  
"How are you going to do that?" His concubine asks. Completely ignoring that he's just been molested by an old lady. "We aren't staying on this island until I die. Not happening."  
  
"Patience," He replies. "Patience."  
  
The carriage pulls up and Astarte sighs. Offers his arm. "Ready?"  
  
When Ramoan looks up at him. She looks truly like a woman. He wants to bite those red painted lips. Tangle his fingers in her meticulously styled hair. He's thrilled to find he has a glorious view down her dress. "Ready!"  
  
He's going to wreck her makeup later.  
  
She takes his arm and he walks her to the carriage before opening the door. Sheppard and his father are already inside. The younger man is practically vibrating when Ramoan sits beside him. Astarte will have to watch this one.  
  
"How are you, Miss Ramoan?"  
  
"I'm well, thank you!"  
  
"Is this your father?"  
  
Ramoan lets out a little laugh. "No, he's simply a dear friend of mine."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear your father is busy, tonight," Says the Sheppard Patriarch. "I was looking forward to meeting him."  
  
Astarte leans forward, insulted on behalf of his charge. "You-"  
  
"My father has passed," Says Ramoan. "He has been dead since I was young."  
  
The rest of the ride is awkward silence on the Sheppard's side and a steaming miasma of offence on Ramoan's side of the carriage.  
  
With an oblivious, neutral Ramoan in the middle.  
  
When they arrive, the Sheppards usher Ramoan into a garden lit with hundreds of white candles. The flowers are every colour imaginable, every shape.  
  
"It's so beautiful!" She says, hands clasped together in excitement. "Isn't it, Astarte?"  
  
"Wow," He says in an attempt to humour her. "So many candles."  
  
But she's too ecstatic to be concerned with him. And he's fine with that.  
  
"Your daughter is a beautiful woman," Says the Sheppard Patriarch. "She's going to make my son very happy."  
  
Glancing at him from the corner of his eye, Astarte replies, "A pretty face doesn't always equate to a happy couple."  
  
"My wife is beautiful and I'm happy."

But is she? He almost asks before he reels himself back in. Swallows his retort. "She is not my daughter."  
  
"So, should we discuss the dowry now or later?" Asks the Sheppard Patriarch. He lights a cigar, hands one to Astarte.  
  
He glances back to the couple walking a few feet before them. Lights his own cigar. "She hails from a poor family. There's no dowry to be had." He inhales deep, lets the smoke pour from his nose. "Besides, is not the husband supposed to provide a compensation for the woman he is stealing from her family?"  
  
"You aren't from Sixtoll my boy!" Says the Sheppard Patriarch.  
  
Astarte dodges a slap on the back with a simple step. "I am not." He confirms.  
  
"What about that house you and your sister live in?"  
  
He watches Ramoan as she stops, smells a rose bush. The Sheppard boy realizes he's being watched and stops staring at her ass. "That house belongs to Ramoan. It was built by her grandfather. And I would personally see to it that it stays in her line."  
  
As an afterthought, he says. "She is not my sister."  
  
They sit at a little round table. Everyone except Ramoan feels awkward that they cannot keep their knees from touching.  
  
Astarte sits across from the Sheppard Patriarch, and next to Ramoan. Who sits across from the Sheppard boy.  
  
He doesn't even hesitate to put his hand on her thigh. It's a challenge he's dying to accomplish. He also wants to see if Ramoan can keep a straight face.  
  
"So why did your father build that house so far out into the forest?" The Sheppard boy asks.  
  
"My grandfather loved the peace and quiet of the country side. He didn't want to have to worry about harm coming to u-us." Her breath hitches just slightly as Astarte pushes her skirt up. It's going to be hard as hell not to just break her hymen and finger fuck her little cunt.  
  
But she would definitely give him away then.  
  
"Well, he can rest knowing I will always take care of you!" The Sheppard boy leans forward, puts his hand on Astarte's. At first, he thinks he's been found out. But the boy doesn't look at him. His hand moves in slow, circular patterns. Intended to comfort, Astarte is sure.  
  
_Well fuck._  
  
The boys hand slides down just a little. Inching towards the junction of her thighs.  
  
"That's my job," Says Astarte. Snatching the boy's wrist when it gets too close to those little cotton panties. He lets go just as quickly.  
  
Sheppard retreats.  
  
"Tell us about yourselves," Says Astarte.  
  
"We hail from the great nation of Katrist!" Says the Sheppard Patriarch. "My son here is from a long line of Katrists! Pure blooded, he is!"  
  
Behind the Sheppard Patriarch, sits a woman on the other end of the garden. Her dress is an elegant ballgown, the color of the sunrise. Reds and pinks at the bottom transition to yellows and oranges and blues at the top. Her lips are blood red.  
  
And she looks at him with a smirk.  
  
"Astarte," Says Ramoan. "Did you hear me?"  
  
He glances at the girl. Glances back and the woman in the ballgown is gone. "I'm sorry, I was admiring the scenery. What is it?"  
  
xXx  
  
"I think it went well. How do you think it went?"  
  
"I'm sure he'll bid for another night out, tomorrow," Says Astarte. But his mind is elsewhere.  
  
"Are you okay, Astarte?" Asks Ramoan as they come in the door. "You're kinda distant."  
  
"Thinking about the next place you two should go for courting."  
  
"Goodnight, Astarte," She says. She gives him a little peck on the cheek. Before scurrying off.  
  
"Finger yourself!" He calls after her.  
  
When he makes it up to his quarters, his concubine and Elm are waiting at the door for him.  
  
"I've had a long night," He says. He pats the strawberry blonde's head. Then Elm's.  
  
His concubine grips him by his belt. Drags him back over. "You know you want to."  
  
Reluctantly, he unfastens his pants. "Damn it, woman, I'm tired."  
  
Her lips ghost over his hips. His abdominals ripple as she kisses them. Slowly, slowly, she goes down. Kisses the head of his cock and he shivers. She licks the underside, her dark green eyes staring into his. Then she just pops him in. Sucks him down to the back of her throat and he tilts his head back. Gets lost in the sensation of her perfect, bobbing mouth. "Gods."  
  
She sucks as she withdraws, blows against him as she slides down. It's nearly impossible to keep his hips still. "I'm going to fuck your mouth if you don't go faster."  
  
He leans against the wall as she follows his demand. Sucking harder. Faster. All the while rolling her own little pink clit with her fingers. She sucks harder. Bobs her head faster and moans around his dick as he grips her hair and guides himself deeper. "Are you still touching your clit?" He asks.  
  
She nods -- As much as she can, anyway.  
  
He shoves her down harder. Lets her gag for a brief half-second. "Put two fingers in. I want to see how far they fit."  
  
She flicks her clit for another moment or two before sliding two fingers into her hairless, shimmering pussy. "Faster."  
  
She moans, he can see her body tightening up. "Do you usually think about my dick when you finger yourself?"  
  
She quivers. Whimpers and thrusts her fingers faster. The wet noises that fill the room are all he can hear.  
  
"Elm," He says. She's basically been naked, watching the whole time. "Come eat my good little bitch's cunt."  
  
She doesn't even hesitate. His concubine moves to pull off, but he forces her head down on his dick while Elm gets into position. She doesn't move until he says so.  
  
"Mmm mm mmmm." Says the concubine with every gentle lick. She rubs her clit hard. Pushes down on Elm's mouth. One hand tangles in Elm's hair, the other grips her master's hip, it's obvious that she hopes he might stop fucking her face.  
  
"Suck that clit, if you will," He says between breaths. He's close now. So close to coming.  
  
She screams around him. And he can hardly take it. Thrusting once, twice, three times, he pulls out just enough that he comes in her mouth instead of her throat.  
  
"Don't stop," He says. He moves to sit between Elm's legs. She lies on her back, doesn't stop him when he puts her legs on his shoulders. "Give it to her. Harder." The strawberry blonde starts whimper-panting. Still careful not to swallow his seed. Her pussy grinds down on Elm's mouth and her large tits brush their nipples on the floor.  
  
She makes a frustrated growl when he slaps her ass. "Why don't you come for me, hmm?"  
  
She screams with a closed mouth. As hard as she tries, saliva drips from the corner of her lips. Elm makes a surprised noise.  
  
"Did you squirt?" Asks Astarte.  
  
The concubine ignores him, takes a moment to kiss Elm. He watches, eyebrows raised, arousal returning as she and Elm swap body fluids. Their tongues twist. The strawberry blonde kneads the older woman's breasts. She grinds her dripping snatch on Elm's thigh.  
  
"Ever tried anal?" He asks.  
  
"Don't do it," Says the concubine, pulling away. "It's not as fun as he makes it out to be."  
  
The concubine rolls onto the floor. The polished wood feels good against her back. Astarte then pulls Elm closer, shifts so his weight is over but not on her, and eases inside. He pushes in just a touch before sliding back out and pushing in a little further.  
  
She grabs a fistfull of his hair and his mouth comes awfully close to hers. "I'm not a virgin. My cunt is a privilege. Not a right. Fuck me like you mean it."  
  
"Do you get off on being so damn demanding?" He asks.  
  
Her arm slaps against his bicep at the same time her leg wraps around his. He grunts as his own back hits the floor. She sits astride him. And while he's getting tired of this Hardnosed Bitch Attitude, he's pleased to see he can watch her hot, tight sex slide up and down his penis from this position.  
  
She moves and he can't take his eyes off the slick lubrication her pussy leaves behind. He lifts his hips to meet her downward thrusts. His hand grips her ass while his free hand thumbs her clit. Her nails rake down his chest, leaving welts over his nipples and he pinches her engorged pearl. "Is that all you have? If your tits aren't going to bounce, I may as well roll your ass over and do all the work."  
She plants her hands on his abdominals, shielding his view of her snatch. And slams down.  
  
He hums his appreciation as she rocks against him with quick, shallow thrusts. He pinches a nipple. Goes back to rolling her clit with his thumb. "I love how tight you are."  
  
Her reply is heavy breathing and the sound of skin on skin.  
  
"Do you-" Her fingers go in his mouth, almost down his throat.  
  
"How's this for finger-fucking?"  
  
Annoyed now, he grips her by the hair and rolls them over. He sucks her fingers, but he keeps her back arched with the tight grip on her dark tresses. His fingers lightly brush over her nipples and she gasps when the palm of his hand connects with her breast.  
  
Her nails make crescent shapes on his arms and back while he mercilessly keeps her bent backwards. Almost there, he thinks. He takes a moment to go back to watching his shaft disappear into her body.  
  
Her breasts slap her ribcage with force now. He rolls her clit and touches the edge of his own release. She hisses, her whole body goes taut and he comes hard inside of her, gripping her hips as his world fades into nothing but the pleasure. He lifts them both. Settles them in to bed and lies between them.  
  
He shuts down. Meditates for a few hours before rising. It's still pitch black out as he pulls on his obsidian boots. He tugs his armour to make sure it stays before lighting one of the many lanterns scattered around the house.  
  
Stepping out into the cool, crisp air of the forest, the animals go quiet as he passes by. The crickets hold their breath until his shadow is no longer over them. The birds scatter into silence.  
  
The town is dead at this time of night. Everyone should be in bed. He wonders how long it's going to take to get off Sixtoll.  
  
Not to mention taking care of Ramoan.  
  
Perhaps, he considers, it would be best to give his concubine a name and send her away. It's earlier than he'd like, but it isn't as though she couldn't handle it. He leans against the well of the town centre. Tosses a coin into the well as he wishes for his path to be made clear.  
  
Red and pink comes into his vision and he turns to see the woman he's been waiting for.  
  
"Astarte," She says with her hand over her protruding stomach. "It's been a very long time."  
  
She sits on edge of the well. He thinks he should shove her inside. But he can't bring himself to move.  
  
"I'm glad you're here. I need your help."  
  
"No," He says. Turns and walks away. He isn't running. He's tactfully retreating.  
  
"You can't hide from me, Astarte." Her voice bounces off the bricks of the buildings. Follows him down the alleyways. "You can't deny me. I have already started the process."  
  
His blood pounds in his ears, it sings for her return. A joyous cacophony. Angrier than he's ever been, he throws open the door. Wakes his concubine. "We have to go."  
  
"What time is it?" She asks her eyes open to slits and he knows the chances of her actually getting up are slim. Elm doesn't even stir.  
  
"Time to go. And we have to go, now."  
  
"Go where, Astarte? What's happening?" She sits up, scratches her breast and pauses. "Mmm?"  
  
But he's busy closing and locking the shutters.  
  
"A-Astarte!"  
  
Quickly, he returns to his concubine. "What. What is it?"  
  
She holds up her hand. In it, is a string that she pulls from inside her nipple. She pulls it again and more slides out.  
  
"Don't touch it, anymore," He says. "It isn't going to fully come out."  
  
"The fuck do you mean?" She says, eyes wide. "Astarte! I swear to the gods that if you don't-"  
  
The shutters start to tremble and shake.  
  
"She does this to every concubine I have. It's a tag."  
  
"A string in my nipple? Really?"

"Mental warfare," He says. He practically flies down the stairs, goes to lock the back door but she's already there. The knob turns and the door begins its steady swing open. Astarte leans into it, tries to hold it closed just long enough to lock it.  
  
"You're just the same as you ever were," She says. Her voice is loud and clear even through the door. "You never even share your concubines."  
  
His feet skid as he continues to fight the door closed. "That's because you always kill them!"  
  
"What's going on?!" Shouts the old woman.  
  
"Stay upstairs, Grandma!" The door finally shuts with a heavy, ' _Thump._ Astarte leans against it. Takes a second to breathe.

  


His concubine comes running down. "I was woken up to you losing your mind, there's some woman trying to kill me and there's a string coming **out of my nipple**!" Says the concubine.  


Before he can open his mouth, the front door creaks open. The woman steps inside. Her heels _click, click, click_ as she moves to the kitchen table.  
  
"Hecate," He says from his position on the floor, against the door.  
  
"You used to have manners," Says the intruder. "You used to listen to me before telling me no."  
  
"What is it you want this time."  
  
"I'm with child."  
  
Standing up and moving to sit across from her, he says, "I can see that."  
  
"I'm glad to hear you're still able to observe the obvious."  
  
Looking at his nails, he asks. "Who?"  
  
His concubine stands behind him. Smooths her hands over his shoulders.  
  
"Aren't you going to offer me tea?"  
  
"Tea is for guests."  
  
"And pregnant women."  
  
He sniffs. "Only if they're invited."  
  
"Invite me, concubine."  
  
He holds up his hand. "She doesn't belong to you. You don't get to give her orders."  
  
"Would you like to change masters?" She asks. "You have so much potential, concubine. He cannot teach you the things that I can."  
  
He looks up at the strawberry blonde, but she doesn't look at him. "If you want to go, you should. She's right."  
  
"Why are you agreeing with her?" Asks the concubine.  
  
"Because," Says Hecate, "I taught him everything he knows."  
  
"To be a master, one must first be a concubine," Says Astarte. "Who fathered your.." He gestures.  
  
"My child," She says. He frowns. "Don't be so upset. I know you wanted to father them, but you should at least be happy for your oldest brother. I'm so proud of how strong he's become."  
  
"Good for him," Says Astarte. He knows his concubine can see his hands shaking under the table because her fingers dig into his muscle in a subtle sort of way. "Why don't you get off my island."  
  
"You don't want to know how he's doing?"  
  
"I want to know why you're here. Why now. Why me."  
  
Standing, she kisses the concubine on the cheek. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me." She then grips Astarte by his jaw and kisses his mouth. She's unfazed that he stares at her the entire time and doesn't move. "So defiant. I missed that side of you. You got boring when you got compliant."  
  
"Thanks," He says. He glares at her retreating back. "Give me the string," He says when the door clicks shut. This time, it pops out easily.  
  
"Why string?"  
  
"It's her bondage medium of choice."  
  
She sits across from him. In Hecate's seat. Her hands reach for his but he pulls away, draws into himself.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" She asks after some time of sitting in silence. The sun has started to glimmer over the horizon.  
  
His eyes meet hers. "She only came by to rub her pregnancy in my fucking face." He stands. Holding down his tumultuous emotions, he moves to the window adjacent to the back door. "That she thinks she can just take you from me without trying."  
  
"Has she done this before?"  
  
"I have had five concubines before you. Three of them she promised power and I never saw or heard from them again."

  


"What do you think happened?"

"She is nourished from sex, just as I am. But I think she's devouring them. Not just taking small amounts that can be handled by the bodies of humans and concubines alike. She's sucking them dry." His hands press onto the window sill and he stares out at the backyard. "She needs more energy if she's going to deliver this child."  
  
His concubine stands, wedges herself between him and the window sill. Her legs wrap around his hips and he stays absolutely still while her arms go around his neck. "She can't hurt you, anymore."  
  
"She never hurt me in the first place." They sit like that for awhile. Eventually, his muscles, wound tight, come undone. His fingers tangle in her hair and he just breathes her scent.  
  
"Are you hungry?" She whispers against his neck.  
  
He shakes his head. He's too angry to feed. Too restless. But she's already easing him inside by the time he's decided. Her undergarments are pulled aside. Her breathing shudders as he slides home. "I think you're just horny," He says. He rests his forehead on the glass pane of the window.  
  
"Always," Is all she says. She keeps him pressed tight against her. He can feel her anxiety over his disinterest in feeding. Their grind is a slow one. There's no intensity, they aren't in any hurry.  
  
"Even if she doesn't," Says his concubine, "I'm always going to choose you." She nibbles his earlobe. "You'll always have the best dick."  
  
His hands slide up and down her thighs and he kisses her on the mouth. It's long and slow and chaste. Her breath picks up. Her muscles twitch around his arousal. It's almost time to take a new concubine, he notes. He's getting less and less energy from her. His most loyal concubine.  
  
"Wait until you have a name to say that." They always changed their minds after they were given names. One would even tell him she loved him.  
  
She's one of the three Hecate stole.  
  
"Hey," Whispers the strawberry blonde. "Focus on me. Stop traveling." Her green eyes look up at him. Yet another reason he chose her. Her hand grabs his. Makes him touch her breasts. "Master. Am I tight enough?" Her muscles flutter, grip him then let go. "How soft are my tits, sir?"  
  
With an exasperated smile, he pulls her closer. Rests his forehead against hers. "You're as tight as the very first time I fucked you. Your breasts are perfect."  
  
"Thank you, master. Now. Could you hump me a little faster?"  
  
xXx  
  
"He said he'd like to go out again," Says Ramoan.  
  
"Does he?" Asks Astarte. He stands at the sink washing dishes.  
  
Elm sits at the kitchen, eyeing the missive with curiosity. "Says here he isn't bringing his father. Says you shouldn't bring your-" Elm clears her throat. "Says you shouldn't bring Astarte."  
  
"Like hell she won't," He says. Elm and Ramoan share a look when his dish washing gets significantly more aggressive.  
  
Elm smirks. "I think it would be a good opportunity for Ramoan to get out there and be independent."  
  
He glares at her over his shoulder. "No."  
  
"I'll be fine, Astarte. I remember what you said. I won't even let him touch my arm yet."  
  
"That's what I like," He says. But his dishwashing is still aggressive.  
  
Grandma comes in and sits. "You got any fine snacks around here, young man?"  
  
"I don't," He says. "But I'm sure Ramoan will be happy to find you some."  
  
"Fresh out," She says.  
  
"That's okay," Says Grandma. "I have all the snacks I need right here." And while it's an apple and some peanut butter, she looks at him when she says it.  
  
He's never been more grateful for someone having a weak life force.  
  
He sets the last dish on the drying rack. Dodges Grandma's frisky little hand as he walks by. "I'm going out."  
  
"By yourself?" Asks Ramoan. "At least take Rebecca."  
  
"Rebecca is asleep," He says. "She's useless to me at this point. Lazy woman."  
  
Ramoan and Elm share another glance. This one is a sly smile. He doesn't like it.  
  
He stands in the foyer to pull on his shoes. Ramoan stands behind him. "Can I come with you?"  
  
"No," He says. "Some things, I have to do alone."  
Hefting his bow and quiver, he strides out into the forest.  
  
"Finger yourself!" Ramoan yells after him.  
  
"I can't wait to marry you off!" Astarte yells over his shoulder.  
  
"You miss me too much to do that!"  
  
"Only because I like bantering with virgins."  
  
The trekk doesn't take very long. The house he stops in front of is yellow. The door is pink. He rings the doorbell and waits.  
  
A man opens the door. He's on the shorter side with a face shape like Astarte's. It irks him that she likes her concubines to all look the same. "I'm here to see your mistress."  
  
"This way, sir," Says the male concubine. "Do you have an appointment?"  
  
"I do not, but I imagine she'll take the time to see me anyway."  
  
The male concubine gives him a dirty look, but says no more on it. "Preference?"  
  
"The offered," He says.  
  
The male concubine nods. "Have a seat and we'll have refreshments right out."  
  
He sits on the plush couch and rests his arms on the back, well aware that Hecate is going to make him wait. Even if she were expecting him.  
  
The Offered Company brings in juice and a decadent dish of something smothered in cheese. "Thank you, concubine," He says. Hopes his own is okay.  
  
The Offered male concubine sits next to him on the couch. Under his arm. He's dressed in only a pair of tight, black shorts.  
  
His nipples are pierced with a connecting chain. Hecate's sigil is tattooed to the back of his hand.  
  
His brushes his fingertips over the shoulder closest to his hand. The concubine touches his chest, looks up at him with dark eyes. "Is there a specific way you'd like to feed?"  
  
He strokes the younger man's hair, holds his gaze for a long moment and Astarte wonders if she still trains them to look away first or if this one is merely strong willed. "Do you have a preference?" He asks.  
  
The concubine tilts his head. "Are you actually asking?"  
  
"I am. We all have things we enjoy."  
  
The man shakes his head. Gasps when his chain is touched. "I-I live to serve and entertain, Sir."  
  
"So there's not one thing in particular you'd like me to do to you?" They make eye contact again. The concubine looks away this time, demurring to his intensity. "You must entertain at a lot of her parties," He says. "Did she tell you about those before you signed up?"  
  
"She told me there would be adventure and lots of surprises."  
  
"But not that you would be expected to participate in orgies and please strange men."  
  
Surprised silence is all Astarte receives. He kisses the concubine. Palms him through his tight black shorts and the younger man gasps.  
  
Astarte takes the opportunity to slide his tongue along the younger man's. He moans, breath picking up.  
  
The concubine glides a hand down Astarte's abdominals and Astarte grips his wrist as his fingers dip into the older man's waistband. "Do not touch me."  
  
The man shivers. His full lips tremble and his erection twitches under Astarte's palm. "You don't want me to touch you, Sir?"  
  
"Keep your hands-" He moves the Offered concubine's hands to the back of his own head. "Here. No matter what."  
  
"Y-yes, sir."  
  
His hands slide the concubine's shorts off. He lifts his hips to help. He grips the younger man's dick at the base, breathes over his flesh and it gradually stiffens in his grasp. The Offered concubine jumps when Astarte's tongue flicks over the slit. The knuckle of his free hand presses very lightly against the man's perinium.  
  
"N-ngh." The concubine gasps out. His abdominal muscles ripple and clench. He goes to move his hands but Astarte's dark expression keeps him captive. "Please. Gods, please."  
  
"You have to ask for what you want," He says. His lips are light when they wrap around the very tip of the younger man's arousal.  
  
His hips jerk. "Ah! Ah! Pleassse!"  
  
"Mmmm?" Says Astarte. His tongue circles the sliver of flesh he has in his mouth.  
  
"S-Siiiir!" His hands tangle in the older man's hair.  
  
Astarte pulls off. "What did I say?"

The concubine's hands jump back to their position. "Please put me in your mouth, Sir."  
  
Astarte's teeth sink into the Offered concubine's thigh and he doubles over. "Th-thank you, Sir."  
  
He licks the junction of the younger man's thigh and pelvis. Suckles on it until the concubine's hips are twisting and writhing. "Please take my cock into your mouth, Sir."  
  
His lips slip just over the head and he stops. The concubine's expression becomes betrayed. "Sir!"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
He hisses. "More, please. I need more..."  
  
His index finger lifts the nipple chain as he sinks down onto the concubine's dick. His nose nestles against his neatly trimmed curls.  
  
"Yes!" He screams. "Yes, Sir! Fuck me, Sir!"  
  
Astarte swallows around his length and the younger man throws his head against the couch. "Thank you, Sir!"  
  
He slides up, sucks hard before blowing and sliding back down. The concubine screams something along the lines of, "Sir, I'm coming! Thankyouforlettingmecome!!" And Astarte gives a startled grunt when his mouth is filled with the concubine's essence.  
  
They make eye contact and, reluctantly, he swallows. The concubine's face turns bright red and his lips part in amazement.  
  
"And here I thought you didn't like having sex with men," Says Hecate. She's as naked as his conquest.  
  
He thinks she's probably been there for some time. "I usually don't," He says. "But it's rude to refuse something that's offered."  
  
"I'm glad you came to see me," Says Hecate. She tosses her long, long hair over her shoulder. "I wanted to discuss how you can help me."  
  
"I realized that you cannot give birth with the amount of power you have."  
  
"Astarte," She says. "I am fading. For me to deliver the start of the next generation, the first one borne to us, I need to have more than what I gain from sex. It isn't enough."  
  
"How do you plan to obtain that much power?"  
  
"Human lives," She tells him. "All of the life of Sixtoll must-" Her fingers spread rapidly in an exploding motion. "End."  
  
His brows draw together, lips parted slightly in consternation. "That's-"  
  
"We'll become gods, you and I. Our power from the souls -- The pure, unfiltered souls will be immeasurable. And my child, the messiah of the next generation, will rule."  
  
". . . Messiah?"  
  
"They will be the leader. A new evolution. We have never had the power to procreate without starting from something. Now we are starting from nothing. We don't need humans to continue our line or our lives!"  
  
"Find another way," He says.  
  
Her expression goes from ecstatic to blank.  
  
"I am not going to wipe out an entire island."  
  
"Astarte. My dear, boy,"  She says, cups his face in her hand. "My darling. My fav-" His eyes meet hers.  
  
He wants her to finish it. "Your what?"  
  
Her smile turns to a smirk. "Before this town was Sixtoll, it was Summerville. Before it was Summerville, it was Cretaverde. Every town gets wiped out. Forgotten. Then a new settlement lands and it starts all over again. No one remembers these villages. And no one will remember Sixtoll."  
  
"But I will," He says. "And I can't justify the many to save the one."  
  
"It would be different if it was your son," She says.  
  
Astarte flinches as though struck. "And it could have been," He says. He's trying to catch his breath from the blow. "But it isn't."  
  
"Do you know why I didn't love you, Astarte?"  
  
"Because you're dead inside like the rest of us."  
  
"Because you're weak. Because every last one of your brothers are stronger than you." Her long, long nails trail down his skin. He can't move. "In fact, I would rather be with a human than you."  
  
He can feel his energy shifting. Pushing both towards and away from her. "Then be with a human. Be with my brothers. Be with literally everyone but me, Hecate. And I will just keep acting like I never met you."  
  
His energy resists her pull. Her eyes soften, hands resting over his chest. "Tell me, do you still love me?"  
  
"If I did, I would have known you were here the day after I set foot on the island."

"Lies~" She sings as she pushes him onto her couch. The concubine cries out, jumps out of the way. "If you didn't love me, you would have already killed me. Don't lie to your master, Astarte."  
  
"I answer to no one," He says. "Not even you-" His breath hitches as she mounts him. "Must you?"  
  
"A woman has to eat." She says, her breasts aren't large but they, at one point filled his hand comfortably. Fit like they were supposed to be there. "Let me give you a proposition-"  
  
"I've already been propositioned."  
  
She grinds down, flex her muscles tight and he knows he looks like a helpless virgin. "I'll let those in your household live. If."  
  
He tries to stay still. Tries to keep control. "If?"  
  
"You help me."  
  
His blood is pounding in his ears. He can feel his own energy being pried from him as though she were peeling his skin -- His muscles away from his body, his bones and tender organs exposed. "Stop." He gasps. "Stop."  
  
"All you have to do, is say yes. Do you want your concubines to die, Astarte?" She rolls her hips hard. Pinches his nipple. "Are you ready to die?"  
  
"Kill me, if you must," He says. "But I thought you liked it when I was defiant."  
  
She pauses. He's left aching, unable to catch his breath and it's all he can do not to lift his hips.  
  
"Just agree," Her hands cup his face. "Don't make me eat you."  
  
"I promise you'll have terrible indigestion."  
  
Sliding off of him, leaving him cold, hungry, and weak, she says, "Take him."  
  
"Wait," He says as he's hefted up by a pair of well-built concubines. "What is it that you want me to do?"  
  
xXx  
  
When he comes home, they're all waiting for him.  
  
Even Grandma.  
  
"Where the fuck have you been?" Yells his concubine. "You've been gone for three days!"  
  
He ignores her. Walks upstairs and lies in the bed.  
  
There's silence for a moment. Then the stairs tremble as his concubine storms up them, throwing the door open. "Fuck you! You make me worry then come back like it's nothing?"  
  
"Leave me, concubine."  
  
"I'm about to!"  
  
Astarte stands. When he stalks towards her, she squares her shoulders and tilts her chin up. She inches back just slightly and he knows she's afraid. But he pulls her against him and wraps his arms around her. She stands tense, hands fisted at her sides.  
  
She goes limp when his hand presses her head against his chest. "What's happening?" Her voice is soft.  
  
"I'm keeping my end of the contract. That's all that's happening."  
  
Her hands touch his waist and he holds his breath. "What happened to you?"  
  
He shakes his head. "It's none of your concern."  
  
"You're basically skin and bones!"  
  
"That's what happens when you go three days without feeding."  
  
"That's what happens when you get stripped!" She touches the hollows of his cheeks. "That's what happens when you have sex with Hecate."  
  
He pulls away. "You honestly think-"  
  
"And I guess you're right to," She says. "She's more beautiful. Powerful. And she has her own name, after all."  
  
"Concubine."  
  
"Of course you would want someone who doesn't follow you around like a lost dog. Someone that doesn't rely on you. Someone you have history with."  
  
"Rebecca!" He says. "That's enough."  
  
Her expression blanks.  
  
He sighs. "Where I go and what I do are none of your business. You are mine to do with as I wish. But I swore to you when you became mine that I would do everything in my power to keep you from harm. Do you remember?"  
  
"I remember," She says.  
  
"And you?"  
  
"I am to keep you fed and watch your back. To keep your bed warm and do all you request."  
  
"Good girl," He says. He pulls his clothes off and lies back down.  
  
"You still love her, don't you?"  
  
He beckons her over with a single finger, refuses to roll over to face her.  
  
She complies, becomes the Little Spoon. "She wears a lot of perfume."  
  
"It's an old habit of an older prostitute." His voice vibrates in his chest. Makes her back and lungs vibrate, too. "I loved her once," He says.  
  
"When was last time you were fed?" She asks.  
  
"This morning," He replies.  
  
"Then you need to feed now."  
  
"No," He says. "I have other things I have to do. I don't have time to feed."

She rolls over to face him. He can already tell by the way she looks at him that he doesn't look good. He's lost his charm point because of Hecate stripping his energy. "You have thirty seconds." She throws her leg over him, raises her skirt. Her scent washes over him like the tide on a beach. He doesn't know how long he can resist.  
  
With a playful glint to her eye, she says, "Fuck me, Master."  
  
He sighs, disentangles himself. Gets up. And she watches him with confusion. "Astarte?"  
  
"Send for Sheppard and have him over for tea. Anyone else that you think is valuable, have them over as well."  
  
"You're not coming back," She says. "Are you?"  
  
He doesn't say anything when he shuts the door quietly behind him.  
  
He taps on Elm's door. She opens it, looks at him with curiosity. And he hands her a piece of paper. "After tomorrow, this goes to the concubine."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Do you have to ask?"  
  
She sighs. "Thank you, Astarte. It was nice to have known you and feel safe with you."  
  
"After this," He says. "You'll never have to be afraid, again."  
  
Her lips brush his. Neither of them close their eyes. And with that, she pulls away. "Don't die. Rebecca doesn't deserve to be in a concubine stage forever."  
  
"Goodbye, Elm," He says.  
  
In the kitchen, Ramoan is still sitting at the table. "Do you want my virginity?" She asks. Her voice is watery, anxious. "I'm scared."  
  
He smiles. Considers it. "Don't be scared. I'll eat you out when I get back."  
  
"Be safe, sweet ass," Says Grandma.  
  
"Bye, Grandma."  
  
He shuts the door firmly behind him. Walks to the point where the yard segues into the forest and he stops for a moment. The breeze ruffles his hair. The forest has gone deathly silent.  
  
He breathes deep before stepping over the circle drawn in the dirt around the house. A little red flag hangs out of the shutters of his room.  
  
Hecate is standing at the forest's path. "There's my boy."  
  
She lifts her head up expectantly. He glares at her.  
  
"Ah-ah," She says. "Is that how you treat the one who made you?"  
  
Reluctantly, he presses his lips to hers. She tries to deepen it and he withdraws.  
  
"What is the matter with you?" She asks. "You're so ungrateful."  
  
But he turns, walks further down the path where her concubines are lined up. He counts twenty.  
  
The one he had sex with watches him intently. "Kill anyone that gets by me," He says. And the concubines disperse.  
  
"I forgot how hot you are when you go into Kill Mode."  
  
"After your child is born," He says. "Don't ever speak to me again."  
  
They walk to the town, just the two of them and he grips his knife tight in his hand. The carriage speeds by and Hecate lunges.  
  
The split second is all he needs to run the knife into her back.  
  
She screams, turns to look at him. "I wish I never changed you."  
  
"But here we are."  
  
"I wish I never changed you," She says again. "I wish I never changed you." Her voice starts to deepen. "I wish I never changed you." Her eyes turn black, whole body shaking.  
  
" **I wish I never changed you**!" She runs at him, nails growing into spikes.  
  
"Ah fuck."  
  
She swipes at him and he rolls out of the way. Loads an arrow into his bow and aims. It strikes her in the shoulder and she screams again. It's bloodcurdling. Inhuman.  
  
Her teeth elongate and the ribbons around her wrists unfurl. "I built you," She says. "Now I'm going to tear you apart!"  
  
He dodges the first ribbon, but his bow is knocked out of his hand. The second ribbon darts in and winds around his leg. She grips the space of ribbon where it branches off from her arm and yanks. His leg comes out from underneath him and he lands on his back. His lungs empty on reflex.  
  
"You know, this was only fun the first time," He manages.  
  
She hisses and begins to drag him closer. Her breathing is slow, heavy. It gives him gooseflesh. He reaches for his bow and his finger tips knock against it. He strains as the ribbon winds up his body and his back scrapes the ground as she heaves him closer. "Come on," He whispers. "Come on."

A shoe edges out of the dark and Astarte looks up. His most recent conquest is hidden in the shadow. Eyes wide and hands trembling, but he nudges the bow into Astarte's grasp. Astarte adjusts his bow as the ribbon winds around his throat and squeezes.  
  
He releases the arrow and he watches with bated breath as it flies. Partially out of hope, mostly because of the ribbon. It hits her stomach and the ribbon instantly drops.  
  
"How could you?" She says. Her eyes become their regular gold colour. "Why would you betray an innocent life?"  
  
He stands, brushes himself off.  
  
"You betrayed me, as well," She says. Her eyes fade back to black. "And you know the price for that!"  
  
The island starts to tremble. The buildings start to crumble.  
  
"You have one last chance, Astarte. Just one. But to be forgiven, you must surrender your concubine."  
  
Screams erupt. People are running from the town and being cut down.  
  
"Kills them, Astarte!" She screams. It's hysterical, shrill. "Kill them all!"  
  
A glimpse of metal crests from Hecate's chest. Red blooms over her snow-white dress like carnations. She gasps, falls against Astarte's concubine and grips her hair. "You had so much potential," She says. Blood spatters against the strawberry blonde's cheek. "But if I can't have you, neither can he."  
  
In one, swift movement, a knife slides from Hecate's sleeve and imbeds into the concubine's middle.  
  
She cries out.  
  
"Rebecca!" Yells Astarte. He pulls his own knife and runs to his concubine. Catches her before she can drop to the forest floor.  
  
She touches his face. Blood smears against his cheek. "You called me-"  
  
"I know," He says. "Don't!" He says when her hand grips the handle of the knife. "Don't touch that."  
  
Hecate has already lain down -- Gone silent.  
  
The male concubine from before kneels before them. Removes his own shirt and offers it. "It's all I have," He says.  
  
"Thank you," Says Astarte. His hand is gentle when he accepts the shirt.  
  
"I would like to be your concubine as well," Says the younger man.  
  
"We will discuss it after I care for Rebecca." He takes a deep breath, and removes the knife before quickly wrapping the shirt tight around her waist. He picks her up as one would any princess. She lies in his arms like a doll. Her skin is the same colour.  
  
The child, incredibly small, has slid from Hecate's body.  
  
Astarte notices the slightest of movements. Hands the other man his knife. "Tie off the umbilical cord then cut it."  
  
"What if I-"  
  
"You won't," He says. And they swaddle the child in fabric cut from Hecate's dress.  
  
When they step past the circle, Ramoan is there to greet them. "What's going on? Is she okay?"  
  
"Perhaps," He says. They lie her on the table and remove her makeshift bandages.  
  
Elm shakes her head. "We told her not to go."  
  
"She's a stubborn one," Says Grandma.  
  
"Do you think she can be helped?" Asks Astarte.  
  
Elm looks it over. "Antiseptic and stitches. But she could have internal damage. Nothing we could do."  
  
"And everyone else is dead," Says the young man.  
  
"Can you push your energy instead of pulling hers," Asks Ramoan.  
  
"No," He says. His eyes trace her lines. Several times, his hands move to touch her but he changes his mind. "There's not a damn thing I can do."  
  
"You could give her a name," Says the male concubine. "It has saved a few of my brethren."  
  
Astarte swallows. Touches her face and her eyes slit open.  
  
"I'll always like you best." She whispers.  
  
He runs up the stairs, pilfers through the cabinets for a paintbrush and ink and comes back down.  
  
He paints a myriad of symbols over her heart. Then her arms and sternum. The last of it ends on her neck. "Your heart and soul, I return to you. With your name, begin anew," He touches his palm to her forehead. "Rebecca."  
  
Her whole body arches, eyes wide. The ink on her lower body crawls towards her navel and disappears inside. The rest of the ink crawls up her throat and into her mouth. Her lips turn a deep red and her skin knits itself back together. For a moment, bright blue light pulses under her skin.

Ramoan puts both of her hands flat on the table, watches with awe. "She's so beautiful."  
  
Her eyes close for a what feels like an eternity. And they wait.  
  
Sheppard goes to touch her hair, but Astarte's crushing grip makes him think twice.  
  
"Rebecca."  
  
Her eyes open. He notes that her lashes have extended to nearly double their original length. She looks inhuman.  
  
"She's a beautiful Inamorata," Says the male concubine. "Almost as beautiful as Hecate."  
  
Her delicate hand reaches for Astarte and he tenderly takes it, helps her up. "She's a thousand times more beautiful than Hecate."  
  
xXx  
  
"Thank you for helping me bury my family," Says Sheppard. "And the rest of the island's dead."  
  
"I'm sorry that there were were so many casualties." Astarte says.  
  
Sheppard shakes his head. "In any case, are you going to give Ramoan away for our wedding?"  
  
"If that's what she wants."  
  
And it is what she wants.  
  
Their wedding is out on the beach. Flowers everywhere. And Sheppard carries her to back to the house she was born in. Across the way is a house they built together.  
  
Astarte is already lounging on their marriage bed when they come in.  
  
Leslie makes a sheepish noise as he sets Ramoan onto her tiny feet. Ramoan doesn't hesitate to unzip her dress, but Astarte stops her. "Slow down."  
  
His hands gently turn her to face Leslie. "Kiss him."  
  
"This is awkward," Says Sheppard.  
  
"It's only awkward if our dicks touch," Says Astarte. "Put your hands on her hips. The two of you should just focus on each other."  
  
Her arms wrap around his neck and her mouth brushes Leslie's.  
  
Sheppard shivers, his hands grip her hips anxiously. But the petite blonde isn't bothered. She deepens the kiss, and his breathing picks up.  
  
_Virgins,_ Thinks Astarte with an eye roll.  
  
Ramoan's hands slide down his neck and over his shoulders. Down his chest and over his soft, pudgy abdominals.  
  
His hands don't move but he moans into her mouth.  
  
Astarte removes his shirt. Debates on how to approach. Or even if he should. Perhaps he should just go back to the house and let them have their first time in peace.  
  
But Ramoan reaches for him. Pulls him close so she can kiss him, too. He keeps it light and chaste, gently redirects her.  
  
She goes back to kissing the younger man and her tongue peeks out. Astarte wonders if she plans to finally use that little pink appendage on him.  
  
He gasps moans as her tongue presses into his mouth and twists with his. And Astarte decides he really isn't needed. He's slow to back out of the room. And they don't notice him.  
  
It's not something he's concerned with.  
  
Rebecca is sitting in bed across the way, watching him walk over through the window.  
  
"That was fast," She says.  
  
"I realized I didn't have to be apart of it," He says. "They have something that Ramoan and I don't. It isn't for me to intrude upon."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Love."  
  
Rebecca shrugs, returns to her reading. Astarte checks on the child in the crib. She looks at him with curiosity.  
  
"Are you sure?" Asks Rebecca.  
  
The child stares with bright eyes and a serious expression. Astarte wonders what she means for the rest of them.  
  
"Because we can adopt her out to someone on the mainland," She offers.  
  
"No," Says Astarte. "I won her. She is mine."  
  
The strawberry blonde Inamorata stands, puts her arms around his chest and lies her head on his back. "You're weird."  
  
The concubine steps in from the hallway. "Have you two fed, today?"  
  
"Looks like you might be getting your threesome after all," Says Rebecca.  
  
"I'll pass," Says Astarte as he leaves the room. Rebecca and the concubine converse in soft voices. It isn't safe for them to feed from this particular concubine at the same time. It runs a risk of killing him. And he isn't sure what he intends to do with no population and one concubine. There's no one to feed from. They, and Hecate's child are running a risk of starvation.  
Grandma waves at him from her seat at the table. She's frail and wouldn't make a trip to mainland. "Have you seen Elm? She seemed to be in a sour mood, today."  
  
He schools his expression into one of good nature. "I'm sure she's fine. But I'll check on her."  
  
Stepping out of the house, he spots her. "Elm, what are you doing?"  
  
"Taking my chances." She says between grunts, huffing, and puffing. She's setting up a small boat.  
  
"Were you going to say goodbye?"  
  
"I doubted anyone would miss me. Ramoan has Leslie. You have your concubine and the baby. Rebecca has you. And grandma has everyone."  
  
"But you have no one," He says, softly. "Which isn't true. But if you want to risk your life, go ahead. Maybe we'll meet again when the rest of us make it to mainland."  
  
"I'm sick of you," She says.  
  
Astarte shrugs. "You know, I almost thought of asking you to be my concubine."  
  
"Why would I want to spend the rest of my life fucking someone so they can steal my energy and live off me like a parasite?"  
  
"It's a bond, Elm. A valuable link. Concubines don't get lonely, they never have to wonder what's going to happen to them, and they never again have to wonder how they're going to survive."  
  
"But you did when you were a concubine. Rebecca was lonely when she was yours! And all you have ever brought upon us is destruction!"  
  
Quietly, Astarte says. "I am sorry you feel that way. And that I didn't sufficiently hold up my end of the contract."  
  
With a yank to the mast, she says. "Sorry doesn't bring everyone on this island back to life. Sorry doesn't strand us and make us try to figure out how we're going to survive-"  
  
He pushes against her, turns her around and twists the rope from the mast around her wrists, binding her to the pole. "We're going to be fine, Elm. With or without you."  
  
Her dark eyes are full of heat when she looks up at him. "Then do it without me."  
  
He dips his head and covers her mouth with his own. Hisses when her teeth sink into his bottom lip and he grips her throat.  
  
Her breath comes out harsh and he presses his crotch against hers. Looks for any sign to stop.  
  
He kisses her again, keeps her captive against the pole and grinds against her. She groans, struggles just slightly. His hand lifts her many skirts and slides over her legs. She glares at him, but pushes into his hand when he cups her femininity. "We will," He says. "But I'm going to make sure you miss me, first."  
  
He double checks the rope to make sure it's tight and kneels before her. Takes his time to explore her ankles and calves and the backs of her knees. Her leg goes over his shoulder as he explores her thighs with teeth and tongue. "Eat me out," She says. Her breath has picked up, she looks down at him with need. Desire.  
  
He blows on her through her panties. "Give me a good reason that I should."  
  
She squirms. Gasps. "I need it."  
  
He lets out a deep growl as he sinks his sharp teeth into her hip. "I thought you weren't interested in sex with the likes of me."  
  
She cries out, jerks her hands against the rope but they hardly budge.  
  
He "Hmmm"s against her skin as he pulls her clothes off, sucks hard on her nipple.  
  
She shudders. "Please."  
  
His fingers lightly caress her thighs and they tremble. Her snatch is slick. "Tell me you want to be my concubine."  
  
"Fuck yourself."  
  
His teeth nip at her dark areola. "That's fine." Her back arches when his fingers draw light figure eights. A circle around her clit and a light touch on her lips.  
  
She looks away from him, her knees shake. Her pussy follows the teasing fingers. Her breathing becomes harsh.  
  
"Oh," He says as he runs his fingertip over her opening. Her hips roll to take him in but he pulls away. "I'm sorry. You told me to fuck myself."  
  
She gasps as he unclasps his belt and pants just enough to get his dick out. He is gentle when he lifts her legs to his hips and grinds against her. Her outer lips flutter and she rocks against him. Jumps every time the head of his cock brushes her pink pearl.  
"Please," She says, her breath catching between every word. "I need you inside me."  
  
"I only cater to the needs of my concubines. It's going to suck for you when I come and leave your pussy so wet and tight."  
  
She bites her lips, looks up at him with less defiance and more need. "I'm sorry," She says. "I'll be your concubine."  
  
"What else?" He says. He sets her back on her feet, drops to his knees and she cries out again. "Tell me."  
  
"I'll let you fuck me when you want."  
  
He gives her a hum of approval. Licks the quim from her thighs.  
  
"Take my energy. Take my body. Use me how you see fit."  
  
"That's what I like," He says. She drops forward as far as the rope will allow when he licks at her outer lips. Sucks on her clit and she pulls hard on the rope.  
  
"Whatever you want- Ah!" She cries out as he slides two fingers inside of her.  
  
He bites her hip and a bruise begins to bloom over her skin almost immediately. He shows no mercy while he's ruthlessly finger fucking her. "What if I expect you to suck my dick every day before breakfast?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He rolls his thumb over her clit while keeping his pace. "If I told you that your ass was mine after lunch?"  
  
"I'm yours," She says. "Oh gods, I'm yours!"  
  
He withdraws. And she looks up at him with tears in her eyes from frustration. He releases her from the rope. "Suck me off."  
  
"Please." She says. "You said-"  
  
"That you were mine to do with as I pleased. Put my dick," His hand is gentle when his fingers tangle in her hair. "In your mouth."  
  
Quivering, she drops to her knees. Glares at him as her lips wrap tightly around him.  
  
He sets his hand against the pole. Sighs in pleasure. "That's what I like." And he tightens his grip in her hair as he pulls out and eases back in. Once, twice, three times. But she's confused when he withdraws. Picks her up and puts her in the boat. But he lies atop her, his dick rubbing against her hip.  
  
"What if I wanted to put my whole hand inside of you?"  
  
She shivers, looks him in the eyes. "Do what you want with me."  
  
He thinks he might be in love.  
  
He grabs her thighs and pulls her closer, eases his cock inside. Slowly, oh so slowly. And Elm digs her nails into his back. "Yes. Gods yes."  
  
She meets his thrusts, feverishly. And he grips her hair. Forces her back to arch. "Is this what you wanted?"  
  
Her thighs grip him tight and he catches himself moaning against her breast. He cries out as his orgasm crashes over him. But Elm is still a quivering, horny mess when he comes back to himself. The tears in her eyes from her frustration are more at the edges of the lids like they might just drop. "N-n-need you."  
  
He kisses her neck, slides down her body until he reaches her soft, needy opening. He presses his fingers deep inside and sucks her clit until she reaches climax.  
  
They lie side by side as she comes down. "You aren't actually planning to fist me, right?"  
  
"I would break you." He says with his familiar huff of a laugh.  
  
"You know," She says. "Eventually, you're going to meet someone you can't dick into submission."  
  
Cryptically, he says, "It's a lesson I would do well to remember."  
  
xXx  
  
"Elm is leaving?" Asks Rebecca from her spot astride the concubine.  
  
Astarte is surprised she's still feeding. "She's reconsidering."  
  
The concubine is gripping her hips, gasping and moaning. He's a hot mess. Astarte's stomach growls, despite having already been fed.  
  
"She may even consider concubine status."  
  
She doesn't reply, thrusts down particularly hard and the concubine moans. His face scrunches up and his whole body writhes. "Ah! Ah! Aaaaahhhhh!"  
  
Astarte is gentle when he pushes her to lie down against the concubine. Pushes in soft and slow. Rebecca's quick, heavy panting is the only thing to be heard as she takes both of them at the same time.  
  
"Too much!" Cries the concubine. "You can't fit! She's too tight!"  
  
"Ssshhh." Gasps Rebecca. "Take it like a good boy."  
  
He paws at her thighs. At Astarte's shoulder, seeking mercy he will not receive. "We can't both fit."  
"I've done this with someone twice your size," Says Astarte. "Stop crying." But once he's inside, the concubine whimpers. Astarte feels the pulse of energy as the younger man reaches his climax. It's absorbed to the last drop by the Inamorata.  
  
The older man sighs in disappointment, eases Rebecca onto his lap.  
  
Their energy oscillates between them as she rolls her hips. His fingers stroke her little clit as she groans. He grasps her breast gently, with his free hand.  
  
The concubine watches them with a red face and parted lips. "I can't move."  
  
"Then watch," Says Astarte. "It makes her wet to have voyeurs."  
  
She drops down against him and screams into his chest as she reaches her peak. The concubine's expression becomes confused. Scared even. "Um. Ah... Is she okay?"  
  
Astarte achieves his own orgasm a moment later. "She's fine."  
  
And the three of them lie in bed, the concubine on the outside, Rebecca in the middle, Astarte on the inside. The concubine sleeps so deeply, Astarte is at first, concerned he's been sucked dry.  
  
Rebecca's fingers trail up and down his arm. "I'm amazed that neither of us gets stripped when we do this."  
  
"It's because we're at an even power ratio." He says. And he's relieved that it's the truth. That Rebecca cannot hurt or be hurt by him. Even though he had hoped she would surpass him.  
  
He reminds himself that she's still young yet. There's still plenty of time for her power to grow and become harnessed.  
  
Her eyes go from soft to shielded. He knows that look. "So what are we to do about the shortage?"  
  
"We'll have to leave," He says. "The sustenance is plenty, but I cannot feed from the concubine."  
  
Much to his dismay, Rebecca had to take the concubine. Astarte had started to pull from him and was forced to stop because of the side effects.

"Nor can you feed from me..." She says, softly. Eyelashes lowered in thought. "If Elm leaves, that leaves only Ramoan and the Sheppards." Leslie had brought his mother and his father stayed behind with the other men. But Astarte has avoided her, doesn't wish to disturb her in her grief.  
  
"I don't have many options," He agrees. "Grandma likely won't make the voyage."  
  
"But Ramoan is married-"  
  
"I vowed," He says. "And I keep my vows." He knows survival for himself is going to be kind of tough. Regular humans wouldn't be able to sustain him as a concubine would.  
  
But the concubines that belonged to Hecate had vanished, sans the one who now belonged to Rebecca. He isn't sure if they died with Hecate, committed mass suicide, or still alive wandering the Island.  
  
He's going to be hardpressed to find sustenance.  
  
It doesn't help that his body is still desperate to get back on track from Hecate stripping him.  
  
A crow lands on the window sill. The shiny band a long its ankle catches the sunlight and reflects it as a rainbow.  
  
He holds out his hand to it and it reluctantly leaps from the sill and flutters its wings for a boost. It hovers over his hand before landing and _caw_ -ing at him in an irritable sort of way.  
  
He knows who the letter is from the moment he opens it.  
  
**"Congratulations on guiding yet another Concubine into Swainhood. It is indeed an accomplishment for the likes of you. I've also heard that you killed our master -- who, by the by, was with child. But I imagine she probably informed you of all that. In any case, because the Island is no longer inhabited by humans, and our master is dead, I've decided to inhabit it, myself. It would make an excellent place to train my concubines and slaves.  
  
With my regards, your brother Mormo."**  
  
Annoyance flares hot as Astarte crumples the note. He supposes feeding is far from an issue now when he has his elder brother to deal with. "Fucking Mormo," He says. But he's careful to keep his expression neutral.  
  
"Mormo?" Says Rebecca. "Why is he contacting you?"  
  
"Because he's a cunt bucket and wants Sixtoll as a personal playground."  
  
Hecate's child babbles in the crib and Rebecca stands, swoops in and lifts the infant into her arms. She tries to hide the inevitable grimace when the child latches hungrily to her nipple, begins suckling the energy from her knew caretaker. "Maybe it would be a good chance to make amends without your master pitting you against each other."  
  
"I have to introduce you to the rest of the family, eventually."


End file.
